The Work Wife
by MrsSpaceCowboy
Summary: Moments don't mean much. Lois takes what she can get and hates herself for it. Emotionally unavailable is exactly her type, but Clark Kent takes it to a whole new level. Events follow episode 8x10 Bride.


**Summary –** Moments don't mean much. Lois takes what she can get and hates herself for it. Emotionally unavailable is exactly her type, but Clark Kent takes it to a whole new level. Events follow episode 8x10 Bride.

 _Previously on_ Smallville _…_

" _It's like I was going along, and it just snuck up on me. And I tried to ignore it, but then there are these moments you can't. Maybe I was reading it wrong. And to add insult to injury, it all went down at tonight's tribute to romantic bliss. I know it sounds sappy… but I thought… just for a minute… that someone needed me."_

* * *

 **The Work Wife**

The waiting area is as frigid as every other one she's ever visited, but the goosebumps covering Lois's arms are from the memories—the nightmare—of that _thing_ carrying Chloe out of the barn and away before she and Oliver had a chance to register what was happening. A fourth cup of coffee sits cold between her hands. The clock ticks past midnight before anyone enters the room.

She looks up, expecting a doctor or anyone who can tell her what the hell is going on with Jimmy, but instead, a petite brunette in jeans and running shoes scrutinizes her from the doorway. It registers that she's still in her bridesmaid dress and heels. No clothes. No purse. No phone. Nothing.

Those things are back in… Smallville, at the farm.

"Miss Lane?" the woman asks.

Lois stands, dreading whatever news is coming but ready for answers. "Yes?"

The woman holds out a hand, and Lois does the same for a quick handshake. "I'm Laurel. Mr. Queen sent us." For the first time, Lois notices Laurel isn't alone. There's a man in a black suit standing at the door. Laurel smiles and points to an oversized duffel at his feet. "That's Donovan. He'll take you back to Mr. Queen's when you're ready to leave for the night. I've done some shopping for you, picked up some clothing and other essentials. There's a full staff at the house, and we're at your disposal while you're here in Star City."

Ollie. Always a hero.

"Thanks," Lois says. "But I can't leave Jimmy alone."

"There's no need to sleep in the waiting room of a hospital." Laurel pulls a small phone from her purse and hands it to Lois. "Mr. Queen said he'll bring your things as soon as possible. Right now, he's doing everything he can to help find…"

Chloe.

Lois looks down at the phone in her hand, but there's no one to call.

* * *

The jeans and comfy sweater are a godsend, and the pink-and-green fuzzy slippers are a bonus. Oliver's personal shoppers must've been given specific instructions. Lois spent enough time being spoiled by Oliver Queen to recognize the thought behind each item in the duffel.

Only hours ago, he offered to be a good friend. Neither of them could've known that a real-life monster would wreck the world around them just moments later.

Lois was no damsel in distress, but Oliver had still managed to come to her rescue. Maybe he could pull off a miracle and bring Chloe home. Alive. After seeing Jimmy and what that… _thing_ is capable of…

She swallows down the panic and stands to pace the room.

She'd knelt in front of her cousin's grave years before when she'd first come to Smallville, and the memory had never gone away, even with Chloe's resurrection. Now, it slams Lois full force into a blue vinyl chair. Oliver's driver is at the door, standing vigil, but it's not enough to stop the tears when they start. She sobs without a sound, still trying to hold something in, but it pours out anyway in the shake of her shoulders.

* * *

"Miss Lane?"

Lois jerks awake, looks around, and tries to shake off the voice from her dreams. _"Do you_ love _him?"_

Macy's questions started this, the Clark Kent-shaped mess in her heart. Or maybe it was that weird redheaded chick and all of her stupid ramblings about deep connections, bonds, and soulmates—things Lois Lane doesn't believe in anymore. Tonight's events only served to solidify that happy endings are a crock sold to people who don't know any better.

The doctor stops a few feet away from her, and Lois stands, ready for news—any news—on Jimmy.

"Mr. Olsen is out of surgery. Things went well. He'll be in ICU for at least twenty-four hours, so now is a good time to get some rest. You can see him in the morning."

A deep sigh escapes, and Lois sinks back onto the chair behind her.

"Thank you," she says.

The ounce of relief is overwhelmed by guilt and worry over Chloe. She's still out there somewhere… at the mercy of a monster.

Lois takes a moment to breathe, closes her eyes, and sends up a quick prayer to anyone listening. Then she stands, lifts the duffel, and walks over to Donovan.

"I guess we can go," she says. "There's nothing more I can do for him tonight."

* * *

Oliver's home away from home is as cold and pristine as Lois remembered it to be. Her slippers nearly land her on her backside when they hit the polished marble entryway, but Donovan's there to catch her by the arm and haul her back onto her feet.

"Thanks," Lois says. The weariness washes over her in waves. "Long day."

"Of course, Miss Lane."

A familiar face greets them at the stairs, and Lois warms at the sight of Oliver's estate manager, Beatrice Meadows.

"Bea," she says.

The woman steps forward, brushes gray bangs from her eyes, and envelopes Lois in her arms. "It's so good to see you. It's been far too long."

Memories of weekends spent upstairs wrapped in Oliver's silk sheets tumble in Lois's mind. This place was their getaway, somewhere to escape when the rest of the world was too much. It had been years, but next to the Kent farm, this was one of the closest things to a home Lois had known.

Bea takes her by the arm and leads her up the stairs. "Mr. Queen called to prepare us," she says. "I'm so very sorry to hear about your cousin. We're all hoping for her safe return."

Lois chokes, unable to say a word. The tears burn, but a few deep breaths chase them away this time. She nods to keep from breaking all over again.

Bea pauses at Oliver's bedroom door, but Lois backs away slowly. "I don't think that's a good idea," she says. "I'd prefer a guestroom."

"Of course, Miss Lane." Bea nods, smiles, and motions to the door across the hall. "Shall I draw you a bath?"

There's nothing Lois wants more than a soft pillow and a bed to crawl into, but her hair is still curled and loaded with products, her makeup is smeared, and as much as she hates to admit it, Clark's cologne clings to her skin from their dance.

She can't stand another minute of it.

"That would be nice," Lois admits. "Thank you."

* * *

Lois slips away the moment her head hits the pillow, and she's granted a deep, dreamless sleep that cleanses and helps clear her head. She wakes late morning to the buzz of the phone next to her on the bed.

There's a text from Oliver waiting when she finally pries her eyes open several minutes later.

 **No news. How are you?**

It's easy to lie with your fingers.

 **Fine.**

There's no guilt from the lie, but Oliver knows better. He asked because he had to, and both of them know it.

She dresses and makes her way downstairs to the kitchen. It's past 11:00, and she should've been back at the hospital hours ago, but she forgot to set an alarm on her phone and knows without asking that Oliver has advised his staff to give her space.

"Good morning, Miss Lane." Bea greets her with a smile and concern in her eyes. "I've packed a breakfast for you. The wraps include scrambled eggs and bacon, which are a favorite of Mr. Queen since he's always… busy. There's a maple donut from your favorite shop. You know, the one on Fourth." She holds out an insulated bag and an extra-large, silver tumbler. "Coffee. Black."

Something thick lodges in Lois's throat. No one has cared for her this way since, well, Oliver, and he's doing it again from miles away while he searches for Chloe.

"Thank you," she says.

"Of course." Bea wraps an arm around Lois and steers her toward the door that exits to the garage. "Danielle is waiting to drive you to the hospital. Our numbers are programmed in the phone Mr. Queen provided. Please call if you need anything—anything at all."

Lois nods, afraid of what might escape her lips if she parts them.

* * *

She's greeted with good news at the hospital. Jimmy's stable and doing as well as can be expected. The phone in her pocket is silent all day, and she cradles still-warm coffee between her hands.

Waiting.

Hoping.

For a moment, as deranged as he was, Macy had convinced her that Chloe and Jimmy would be the exception to the rule. If they could survive his deadly game of twenty questions, they could take on the world. Damn that man.

" _Do you_ love _him?"_

Never before had Lois ever been in a worse predicament. The moment she realized the answer, she knew she was screwed. If she'd said no, Macy would've known she was lying, so she chose to hurt herself with the truth to save Clark the pain of being electrocuted. Again. Because of her.

" _Yes."_

And every moment since has been spent trying to make it stop.

Wishing it would go away.

Damning it to hell and back.

Lying to herself and to Clark.

Fairytales don't exist, and monsters are always around the corner, waiting to kill the hero and run away with the princess.

Chloe's voice screams Jimmy's name on repeat in her head. Some soap opera is playing on the television in the corner, but Lois is trapped on the Kent porch, clutching Oliver's wrist and watching a creature with horns and glowing eyes disappear in the corn stalks before it leaps into the sky and out of sight, taking Chloe with him.

A living nightmare.

She unlocks the phone, lets her thumb hover over the keyboard while she tries to remember the General's phone number, and sighs. It's not like he'd drop everything and rush to her side. That's not his style. She could almost hear herself trying to explain it.

" _Some evil horny toad-looking monster took Chloe after he almost killed her husband of less than an hour."_

She bursts into laughter, a high-pitched hysterical sound she barely recognizes, and tosses the phone onto the chair next to hers.

Lois is on her own again. Nothing new.

* * *

 **Chloe's okay. She'll be there as soon as possible. – O**

A massive weight lifts from Lois's chest, and she smiles, maybe for the first time since the wedding.

Since the last time she saw Clark.

It took a super-powered redhead and a maniac with a trigger to open her eyes, but once she noticed what had been right there in front of her for _years,_ it was hard to, well, _not_ notice it—moments and sparks and a longing she hated.

The moment Jimmy's vows slipped from Clark Kent's lips, she was weightless.

But reality is, was, and always will be Lana Lang. Almost-kisses don't mean jack when history like that boomerangs back into the picture. Everything else disappeared in an instant, Lois included.

It still burns. In a sad and tired way, it still burns. At the very least, Lois had considered Clark a friend. It's clear now he doesn't consider her much at all unless there's a shared byline involved. Lana's sudden reappearance at the wedding knocked the rose-colored glasses off and across the room.

Maybe it's time—time to stop with the partner nonsense and go it the way she knows best: alone.

Lois Lane doesn't need a sidekick.

She replies to Oliver with a list of things for Chloe to bring with her. _Toothpaste._ She hates the brand Oliver keeps stocked at the estate. _Phone. Blue dress bag on the left. Gray dress bag on the right. Black pumps. Running shoes. Comfy clothes. Laptop._

Lois is going to need that laptop.

Eventually, she's going to have to call Tess to request more time off. The week of scheduled vacation isn't going to cut it. She can work remotely from Star City, offer to cover obits and want ads for a few weeks. It's not like anyone else wants to.

She pulls a small notebook from her bag. A to-do list is something to focus on, an end goal, and now that Chloe's safe and on her way to Star City, Lois can breathe and plan.

* * *

Lois studies Chloe head to toe repeatedly, but there isn't a mark on her. That beast was strong enough to wreak havoc on the Kent farm and nearly kill Jimmy, but Chloe's skin is glowing, healthy… and unhurt. Gratitude for her favorite red-and-blue hero swells.

It was him.

Of course it was.

"I wish I could tell you more, Lois," Chloe says when pressed for details. "I remember holding Jimmy, being carried through a corn field, and then bam. Blank. Nothing. Nada until I woke up in the hospital."

Lois takes the half-truth for what it's worth and holds her cousin for a moment. She can't blame Chloe for refusing to talk about what happened. Still, the moment she takes a step back, Lois studies her one more time. Amazing. Not even a scratch.

"Thanks for bringing my stuff," Lois says, digging through the oversized purse Chloe brought with her. Her phone's dead, as expected. "I think I'll go back to Ollie's and give you some time alone with your husband."

They glance at Jimmy, and tears fill Chloe's eyes. The bandages and bruises on his body are nothing compared to when he was bleeding and barely breathing on his own. "Thank you," she says, pulling Lois close for one last hug. "I can't thank you enough."

"I can come back later, if you want…"

"We'll be fine." Chloe picks up Jimmy's hand and entwines their fingers. "He's going to wake up soon. I know it."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Lois finds Donovan in the waiting room. "Think maybe I can charge this on the way back to the estate?" She holds her phone in the air in reference.

"Of course, Miss Lane."

"Lois."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ugh."

She knows his type well; ex-military, killer looks and instincts, all work and no play, and an all-around stick in the mud. He's rules and orders, much like her father.

Oliver's gunmetal gray Hummer is parked just outside admissions. He's pacing near the exit with his phone against his head.

"Ollie!"

He turns at the sound of her voice, lowers the phone, and flips it closed. He steps forward and catches her when her cheek hits his chest and the tears start. Every last bit of strength pours out of her the moment his arms close around her.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," she says.

"You've been holed up here for days. Let me take you to dinner."

She almost declines. It's been a long week, she's tired, and the pool is sounding better with each passing moment, but in the end, she agrees.

Oliver dismisses Donovan for the evening.

"Come on," he says to Lois as he opens the passenger door of his truck. "I'm starving."

* * *

They dine at her favorite sushi joint, and for the first time in days, she laughs and means it. The post-dinner smile is wiped from her face during the ride back to the mansion. The bars on her phone are enough to play back voicemails from the last few days.

The most recent is from Clark and barely qualifies as basic communication.

" _Lois, it's me. The hospital called. Chloe's been found. I'll call when I know more."_

She shakes her head and stares out into the darkness.

"What?" Oliver glances over at her after turning onto the private drive leading to his home.

"Nothing."

He carries her bag and leads the way in through the garage. She follows him to the media room and watches him walk to a bar in the corner.

"I have everything we need for beer pong, but you've had a hell of a week." He lifts an unopened bottle of whiskey and two glasses into the air.

"Amen," Lois says.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner," Oliver says, wrapping an arm around her. "Clark went undercover on a dirty-cop story." He rolls his eyes. "I had to bail him out."

"That sounds like Smallville," Lois replies. "Biting off more than he can chew."

Oliver's lip twists into a grin. "You have no idea."

"Ah." Lois nods once. "And how are Clark and Lana?"

"Secrets, lies, drama… You know, the usual."

An unfamiliar ache echoes through her and settles in her chest. "Yeah," she says. "They're nothing if not predictable."

"So you know as well as I do that it'll be off again in no time."

"Until it's on again." It's the cold, hard truth in one shot. Lois lifts the glass in the air, waits for Oliver to tap his against it, and lets the whiskey wash away any lingering trace of what could've been.

They're three rounds in with more than half a bottle left to kill when the warmth of his leg touching hers is incentive to scoot until their sides are melded, too. He lifts his arm, and Lois accepts the invitation, resting her head against his neck for a moment.

"Do you have any contacts at _The_ _Post_ or _The_ _Register_? Think you could hook a girl up?" she asks.

He stiffens and pulls away enough to study her face for tells. The resolve is written all over her. "You're not seriously thinking about leaving _The Planet_ …"

"Come on, Ollie. Do you really think I want to sit around playing work wife with Clark Kent for the next thirty years?" Lois smiles. She could have Clark's days—share laughter, adventure, and coffee—but Lana would have his nights and his heart. "You know me better than that."

"So you're going to leave Chloe and Jimmy? Your job? Your apartment?"

"I think it's time to leave Smallville." She leans forward to pour another shot, leaving him to wonder which Smallville she's talking about. "I was kind of hoping you might let me extend my stay here until I can find something permanent. If I get a job, I mean."

Oliver knows better than to argue with her. Lois will always be Lois.

"Of course you can stay here," he says. "What are friends for?" He lifts his glass, watching her lips part and the way her eyes close when the cool drink hits her tongue. "Speaking of jobs, I've got a story for you. The timing's critical, so you're going to have to play this out according to my schedule, but it's yours if you want it."

"Gimme gimme," Lois says, angling her body to face him.

"Tess proposed a merger between LuthorCorp and Queen Industries, and I've accepted."

Lois's mouth drops open in surprise, but it doesn't take her long to recover. "Congratulations," she says. "You've officially gone to bed with the devil."

"A time or two." Oliver winks and throws back his whiskey.

Lois lowers her eyes when he licks the residual from his lips, but it doesn't help because his finger is tracing the rim of the shot glass. The memories of what those lips and fingers can do come rushing back in a tidal wave that pushes her forward until it's her lips tasting him. At first, he's surprised, but when he catches up, he pulls her closer.

There's never been a lack of chemistry between Lois and Oliver. Her body remembers that well. It's easy to forget everything else in the world.

Until he puts his arms around her, making her heart and mind revolt.

"I'm sorry," she says, pushing his chest gently with both hands. "I shouldn't have done that."

He's stunned momentarily. "I'm sorry, too," he says. "I didn't mean to… I would never take advan—"

"Stop." Lois reaches for his hand and squeezes it. "Let's just chalk it up to the booze."

"Right." He nods.

"Okay." Her cheeks redden, and she stands before he can even blink. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

"See ya."

Oliver watches her flee the room, vowing to do everything in his power to help Lois leave Smallville, even though he's sure she never will.

* * *

 **A/N- Thanks to Iris for making this a lot prettier.**

 **I know _Smallville_ has been over for years, but I watched it again with my daughter this summer and decided I have some season 8 angst issues to work out. This will be a collection of "missing" and "what if" moments instead of a full-length story. **

**Thanks for reading!**

 **MSC**


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